On Doubt

by HelluvaGirl

Doubt is my middle name. I doubt at a grocery shop, picking apples over oranges. I hesitate on what to wear at work the next day (after I've doubted about the employment proposal, having initially said "no"). I feel mixed about lipstick colour, radically different perfume types, is it yoga or is it aerobics, do I want to save money or enjoy the present day, but most of all, I doubt people. Relationships, if you will. It could seem like the lack of trust, but I tend to think it's that I've met so many, that all interactions, to me, fall into a certain kind of matrix. The feeling that I know all beginnings and all endings, jails me up in my very own communication patterns that are predetermined, prejudiced and cautious. To think further, it is the choice about other people, the involvement that's the risky part. I miss not thinking about it so much, but it somehow happens to always involve the necessity to think, to weigh, to... doubt. The responsibility. The illusion of having (to retain) control. What happens, if I do what I really want? Want - not consider right, not imagine ahead. Some wishes, fulfilled, take away self-respect, marginalise and demean us in the end. On the other hand, is morality, empathy and status more important than experience, adventure, being open and sometimes getting surprised there was never an apocalypse involved? It's the price, as I was once told by One Smart Person. Always consider the price and weather you are willing to pay it. With apples and oranges, it is way easier.  Facebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmailFacebooktwittergoogle_pluspinterestmail
twitterpinteresttwitterpinterest